


Let's Make a Little Magic

by kelios



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Magic Fingers, PWP, Wincest - Freeform, silly cheesy fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:14:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22415299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelios/pseuds/kelios
Summary: Sam. Dean. Magic fingers. What else do you need?
Relationships: Sam/Dean
Comments: 2
Kudos: 47





	Let's Make a Little Magic

“C’mon, Sam… we've been hunting how many years together and you really never tried the magic fingers? Not even once?”

Sam blushes. “‘M not a pervert, Dean. I just--”

He stops because Dean is laughing uncontrollably. 

“I mean--” 

“Sam. Your huge, glorious, mammoth dick is in my ass or my mouth damn near every night. Sometimes both. It's not the magic fingers you have to worry about, it’s fucking your brother every day and twice on Sunday. Maybe more.“ 

Dean wipes at his eyes and his voice takes on a wheedling tone as he slides his hands up Sam’s chest and licks his lips. “Sides, you know how much I love watching you, little brother. Laid out across the bed so pretty, two fingers in your ass, your dick all shiny and hard while you fuck your fist the same way you love to fuck my mouth- - “

Sam's sweating now, more than half hard, his breath coming in desperate little whines as Dean pushes the flannel off his shoulders and tugs the tee shirt up over his head. Dean can't resist licking over Sam's newly replaced tattoo, groaning at the taste of salt and skin and _Sam_ as he slowly works Sam’s belt loose. 

“Dean…”

Dean kisses his own name out of Sam’s mouth, savors the moan that follows it as he gives Sam a gentle push. Sam falls willingly onto the bed, pushing himself up onto his elbows and lifting his hips as Dean strips him down and spreads his legs.

“Fuck,” he sighs, his eyes hot as he crawls slowly up Sam’s naked body. “So beautiful, Sammy. Almost don’t want to wait my turn.” 

Sam makes a soft, needy sound as Dean licks a line of sweat from his throat. “Dean, come on, I need--”

“I know what you need, little brother,” Dean says, shushing him with a kiss. He takes his time, teasing and eating at Sam’s mouth, feeding on his whimpers and moans. When he pulls back Sam is pink all the way to his chest, the color deepening when Dean pulls a packet of lube from his pocket and drops it on Sam’s chest. 

“Show me what you’ve got, ‘Tom’,” he purrs. “Just like you did at Stanford.”

Sam turns his face away, but Dean pulls him back. “You weren’t supposed to know that was me,” Sam grumbles, and Dean laughs. 

“Like I could ever forget what you sound like, little brother,” he whispers, lips against Sam’s ear. “You moan like a pornstar, always did, especially when someone’s playing with that tight little hole of yours.”

“Fuck, Dean,” Sam groans, hips grinding up against Dean’s, pulling him down for a quick kiss before shoving at his shoulder. “If you want your show, get off me.” 

Dean eases back, eyes never leaving Sam as he grabs his duffel from the foot of the bed and digs out a handful of quarters. He feeds two into the machine, licking his lips as Sam squirms. 

“Feels weird,” Sam mumbles, but he's already toying with his cock, pulling his legs up so that Dean can see the dusky pink of his hole clenching and quivering.

“Yeah,” Dean mutters, fumbling at his belt as he watches Sam rub at his hole coyly. “Fuck _yeah_.” 

Sam moans softly, fingers stroking lightly over his thighs now, one hand cupping the heavy weight of his balls as he rolls and massages them, moaning again with how fucking _good_ it feels.

“That’s it, babe,” Dean encourages, shoving his jeans and boxers down his own thighs with a pleased sigh as he collapses into the chair he’d dragged over earlier. He’s already leaking, clear fluid sliding between his fingers as he grips himself tight. “Get a finger in there, know you want to--”

Sam does as he’s told, his hole going slick and shiny as he rubs with long, elegant fingers and slowly pushes one in. He gasps, back arching, the hand on his cock working a little faster. “Dean--” 

“Feels good, doesn’t it? Come on, little brother, show me how good it is, show me how much you like showing off for me.” Dean can barely get the words out, eyes stuck on the way Sam’s hand is squeezed tight around his dick as he pushes in a second finger, God. The way Sam is stretched open around those fingers, pushed in to the second knuckle. The sound he makes--tiny, bitten off moans, like he doesn’t want Dean to hear how good it is--it’s all Dean can do to stay in his seat instead of falling to his knees between Sam’s spread thighs and begging for a taste of whatever Sam will give him.

“So--so good, Dean, fuck--I can feel it everywhere--” Sam’s gasping now, panting as he grinds down on the fingers in his ass, his thumb digging into his slit as he works the nerves under the head of his dick. His back arches, those perfect abs heaving as he tries to hold out a little longer. “Fuck--want you--”

“Tell me,” Dean says hoarsely, not begging--not yet. He’s matching Sam’s rhythm, faster now, Sam completely given over to the pleasure of what he’s doing. A third finger slipped past his rim with a small choked-off gasp, so close, they both are, and God the things Dean wants to do--

“Want you to fuck me,” Sam pants, hips straining as his back bows. “Want it--fast--and hard--and--and _deep_ \--” He comes on the last word, hot splashes of white streaking his chest as he moans, ringing himself dry for Dean’s pleasure. 

“ _Fuck,_ ” Dean swears roughly, brokenly, stumbles out of the chair to push his knees against the bed between Sam’s spread legs. One more stroke, one more twist of his wrist and he’s coming with Sam’s name on his lips, falling forward to kiss Sam through pleasure so sharp and blinding and good it’s nearly pain. 

Eventually he pushes himself up off Sam’s chest with a groan, arms shaky, and doesn’t protest when Sam pulls him back down other than a grimace at the sticky _mess_ between them. 

“Is the mess less gross when it’s in your ass?” Sam sounds lazy, amused. Sated, even, like this had been his idea. 

“No, but there’s less of it,” Dean grumbles, eyes darting up to catch Sam’s fond smile. “What about you, don’t you care?” 

“Mmmm…” This time Dean catches Sam blushing, pink stealing slowly over his cheeks. “I kinda like it, actually.” His arms tighten around Dean, his pulse picking up under Dean’s hand. His voice sinks lower, gravel and smoke and hotly possessive. “Like seeing that you’re mine. Like knowing I’m yours. Just like it.” His dick stirs against Dean’s thigh, sticky and wet, and it’s Dean’s turn to smile. 

“I guess I can work with that, little brother,” he says, low and hungry. He leans up to kiss Sam again, two fingers sliding through the cooling mess on Sam’s belly to find his center, still slick and hot and tight. Sam moans contentedly, hips rising languidly to press into Dean’s hand, protesting when Dean pulls away to lean toward the nightstand. 

“You almost forgot,” Dean teases as he feeds two more quarters into the box beside the bed and turns the vibrations up to high. “Let’s make a little magic.”


End file.
